


An Improbable Summertime

by gigglingidiot



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 07:10:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3641325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gigglingidiot/pseuds/gigglingidiot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon would be lying if he wrote home to his mother and told her how awful his life was now, moving from the city to a small rural town had been the best decision of his young life so far.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Improbable Summertime

**Author's Note:**

> I just want to make this clear, this will probably not be a regularly updated fic for quite a while as I seem to have chosen a really busy point in my life to start this, but rest assured that it will eventually be complete. 
> 
> Also I have tried to make as many parts of the fic historically accurate but some aspects are obviously not going to be so, all mistakes are my own and I hope you enjoy the fic.

Most nights, when Brendon finally drifts asleep, he dreams of flowers. Beautiful flowers of blue, red, pink and every colour imaginable, stretching for miles before him while birds sing sweetly in the air; daisies and aster catch at his feet as he walks, crawling up his legs till they curl around his arms. The further he walks the more flowers seem to hold on to him and soon enough he has to stop, peonies and tulips grab at his feet while forget me not’s and poppies join those on his arms and chest. It’s always then, when he can no longer move, that the person comes into view and brings the sweetest scent Brendon has ever smelt. They walk for what seems like hours until Brendon’s sure if he just squints he’ll be able to recognise them.

  
That’s when he wakes up.

*

Brendon would be lying if he wrote home to his mother and told her how awful his life was now, moving from the city to a small rural town had been the best decision of his young life so far. Admittedly he had had reservations about claiming the small music shop he had inherited from an old family friend, but when he’d arrived at the small train station and been led to the shop by a smiling man with glasses similar to his own and a toupee that kept flying up from the wind, he found he couldn’t say no, and had somehow signed the lease and agreed to return within the month to reside permanently.

The town had been around since the end of the 17th century, or so the smiling man had told him as they walked back to the train station, a prosperous village for the Lord’s tenants that had grown rapidly in the past fifty years to rival its counterparts in resources while still staying no more than a mile and a quarter across. Brendon found he could not dispute the man’s statement, just walking from the street his newly inherited shop sat on, and down along the high-street, he had seen more shops than in the whole surrounding area of his Mother’s large town house. The shops were cramped against each other, shoulder to shoulder, seemingly rustling for space in the confines of the bricks, others perching on top of others or two sharing the same door; it was the most chaotically beautiful thing Brendon had ever seen, and he had found he quite missed it already as he sat on the train, rattling back to his Mother’s house.

*

Brendon had been in the town for a week, and already he felt like everyone who lived within a day’s walking distance had squeezed into his already cramped shop, it was only one o’clock in the afternoon and already he had entertained a handful of warmly smiling women with bored looking husbands, nosy local children that Brendon guessed had been sent by even nosier parents, and a small man with a lot teeth who had offered to make an ointment for an ailment Brendon hadn’t been aware he’d had.

  
The bell rattled above the door again, and Brendon looked up from the violin he was trying to fix with a quiet sigh, squinting for a while to bring the customer into focus before he remembered to put his glasses on. A tall, thin man with a bored looking face was prodding at miniature child’s piano with long fingers.

“Can I help you?” Brendon asked, placing the violin down and standing up straight behind his small counter that housed the imposing till.

“I doubt it, I’m only here to see what all the fuss was about” The man shrugged while still touching the keys softly on the child’s piano “Of course I would have come earlier, you have caused quite the uproar in the female population of the town and there is only so long I can stand to be prattled to about the fine young gentleman who has taken on the music shop, but taxidermy is a very demanding profession and I have only just now found the time to visit you” Every few words were punctuated with a press of a different key and as the man finish talking he spread his fingers and managed to press nearly every key with a droning clank.

Brendon’s eyebrows had risen as the man had lamented about being too busy for social calls, he was pretty certain he had watched the tall man wander around the street not two days ago waving around a newspaper and stopping random passers-by to angrily point at the front page, Brendon had quite enjoyed watching it, people who had been heading towards his shop had quickly diverted their course to avoid being accosted; it had resulted in a quiet afternoon where Brendon had been able to fix at least three mistreated instruments for their careless owners. He had found himself quite put out when a man wearing just a shirt and slacks under a worn coat jacket had grabbed the tall man’s arm and lead him towards the taxidermist shop, his hand leaving a slight floury imprint on the fine weave of tall man’s suit jacket.

“Your rather small piano needs tuning” The tall man criticized before walking forward and holding his hand out “I’m Ryan Ross, intellectual and skilled taxidermist”

Brendon smiled, trying not to think about the horrifying animals that stared from behind glass into his shop window, then extended his own hand out to take the man’s and offered his name as they shook.

“Urie? Not local to the area I presume?” Ryan inquired with a small tilt of the head.

“No, I’m from…” Brendon was halted from speaking by a dismissive wave of Ryan’s hand.

“You can tell me later, I have an appointment at the Printers right now, I suggest you close shop for an hour or two, go explore the town, début your charming face” Ryan drifted towards the door again, but not before pressing a few more keys on the small piano and left with a small sigh.

Waiting for Ryan to go back to his own shop, Brendon watched as he paused by a large stuffed bear beside the doorway and wobbled one of its teeth with his finger, only to knock it out and dart inside with a side glance down the street. Brendon shook his head and after a minute of gazing at the slightly dirty glass of his windows, decided to take up Ryan’s suggestion flipping the closed sign around and wandering to the back of the shop that led to his living quarters in search of his jacket and an umbrella as the summer sky had gathered a foreboding grey over the town.

He paused leaving through the back door to grab a couple of coins from a dish on the mantelpiece before closing the door and following the back alley, that bordered the small courtyards that backed all of the houses and shops on the street, to the corner opposite the Grocers.

Contrary to Ryan’s belief that Brendon need to début his face to town, Brendon had in fact already become acquainted with many people on his own accord, he would have starved going a week without going outside to buy food, but Brendon guessed these details didn’t really trouble someone as vibrantly eccentric as Ryan.

The grey clouds finally gave up trying to hold in the rain and let loose in a torrent of warm drops and Brendon only just managed to avoid as he slipped inside the grocers, pausing to hand his umbrella to a reluctant housewife clutching her purchases to her chest and peering out at the rain, before waving her thanks away good-naturedly and striding over to the long counter to catch the assistant’s attention.

“Good afternoon Mr. Urie” The girl behind the counter smiled at him, she had a soft face, pretty around the eyes and a slight dumpiness to her body, Brendon had found he quite liked her after their first meeting a few days ago, but before he could respond his name was called from behind the divider.

“Hello Mr. Stump” He answered as a man shorter than himself trotted over to him, taking the small piece of paper with Brendon’s grocery list on out of Brendon’s hand and passing it to the girl to collect them from around the shop as they talked.

“Glad to see you didn’t get to wet coming over, I’m afraid it may be a different story on the way back though” Patrick laughed as he leant against the counter.

“I had bought an umbrella, but I gave it up to someone more in need of it” Brendon shrugged back waiting for Patrick to ring up his costs as the girl gathered them.

“That was very foolish of you, no guarantee you’ll ever see it again, unless it’s in the pawn window” Patrick laughed pessimistically as he shuffled stock to look more presentable “However, I would like to know when you’ll be able to come and fix my piano, it’s been nearly two months since it broke I miss it you know” Brendon nodded at Patrick's wistful tone before responding.

“Let me settle fully in, half of my possessions are still elsewhere, until then you’re welcome to play the ones I have in the shop” Brendon smiled cheerfully, collecting the paper bag full of groceries of off the counter and hefting it into his arms “How much do I owe you?” Brendon shuffled his hand about in his pocket for the coins he had grabbed earlier.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll take this as a down payment on you fixing my piano” Patrick grinned before commenting on how the sky looked bright and that Brendon should probably go as the rain was thinning instead of waiting for it to fall heavily again.

With a quick farewell, Brendon folding his collar up to cover the bottom half of his face and quickly darted across the street, taking refuge beneath an overhanging roof as he waited for the brighter patch of sky to drift above the town. The shelter seemed pointless though, as a large splash of water suddenly fell down the back of Brendon’s collar causing him to squawk in surprise and leap out shelter to glare up at the offending sky, only to crash into the cobbles a moment later and realise with a groan that he’d jumped out into the way of another poor soul trying to get in from the rain.

“Oh Gosh, are you okay?” A voice belonging to a blurry face asked him, causing Brendon to realise his glasses had flown away from his face “You’re not terribly hurt are you?” The voice asked again with concern as they crouched next to Brendon.  
“Umm…no I think I’m fine, can you see my glasses anywhere though?” The man stood up quickly and retrieved Brendon’s glasses from a puddle nearby, something Brendon was infinitely grateful for as the reflections of the water would have made it impossible to catch the glint of the gold frames in weak sun.

“Thank you” Brendon gulped as he placed them back on his nose, noticing the crack along the right lens and choosing to ignore it so he could apologise to the stranger for jumping in front of him, but was stopped from doing so as the man hauled Brendon to his feet.

“As much as apologies are invaluable right now, I feel for the moment our time would be better used getting warm and dry” The man gushed, pushing his hair from his eyes and checking Brendon over for injuries with a quick glance “I hope the next time we meet it will be in a better situation with time to give names” The man smiled at Brendon sheepishly before darting away again.

Brendon stood in the street still dazed and with a distinct feeling he recognised the stranger’s face but for the life of himself couldn’t remember where from. With a sinking feeling in his gut, he finally noticed his groceries strewn about the ground and began to gather them with building melancholy before walking slowly back to his home, not really caring about the rain as it seemed impossible to get any wetter.

His spirits crashed even further as he remembered he hadn’t left a low fire in the embers of the fireplace and it would take a while yet to get it warm enough to dry off properly. Shrugging off his jacket and shoes, Brendon padded upstairs to find dry clothes and to brush his dark hair back from hanging in front of his face in wet strands. Standing by the window overlooking the street, Brendon considered keeping the shop closed and just relaxing for the rest of the day, but the clock chimed softly alerting him to the fact it was only quarter past two in the afternoon and he pushed away his silly idea.

The rain didn’t let up for the rest of the afternoon though, and only one person entered the shop to short through a stack of sheet music before sniffing and walking out, leaving Brendon to tidy them up again. By eight o'clock he had stopped noticing the crack in his glasses and had reasoned with himself that he was too far away from anywhere that attracted nightlife for him to lose any sales and he may as well close shop and read for the rest of the evening. It was only after he had extinguished all the lights and was about to close the partitioning door between the shop and his home that a string of rapid knocks against the glass window in the door caused him to turn around.

Ryan was waving lazily from behind the glass, standing next to someone partially hidden from view; Brendon walked over to the door and unlocked it with confusion.

“Mr. Ross, I was just about to retire for the evening, is there anything I can help you with?” Brendon had only opened it wide enough to allow his face to be seen fully and was hesitant to open it any wider, he didn’t feel like entertaining guests, let alone people he barely knew.

“Why of course you can help me, I wouldn’t be here unless you could” Ryan chuckled at Brendon’s apparent naivety and pushed the door wider and walked in, causing Brendon to step back in surprise “Also you shouldn’t be shutting shop so early, think of all the people who need violins and…” He picked up a small whistle shaped like a blue bird “Whatever this is”.

“Your shop has been shut since late afternoon” Brendon countered, losing any politeness he had first spoken with and crossing his arms with a frown, unnervingly, this made Ryan smile wider and pat him on the arm.

“Taxidermy has it’s time limits, no one wants Pickles the cat to be stuffed at eight o'clock in the evening, but music never sleeps” He picked up a guitar and plucked the strings obnoxiously, releasing it with languid fingers and a barking laugh as Brendon grabbed it and placed it back where it belonged.

“Anyway, enough of your lack of business sense” Ryan carried on ignoring Brendon’s indignant huff “Let me introduce the humble baker, Mr. Spencer Smith” He finished with a flourish of his hand.

Brendon smoothed the scowl from his face and turned to face Mr. Smith, only to let out a small “oh” in surprise before speaking.

“It’s nice to meet you again, Mr. Smith” Brendon grimaced slightly in embarrassment as he looked at the all too familiar face of the stranger he had jumped in front of earlier in the day.

“And you, Mr. Urie, I hope you’re in better spirits then when we last met” Spencer had a high blush on his cheeks and he held his shoulders in an apologetic manner.

“Oh, you know each other already?” Ryan cried with a clap of his hands breaking the awkward silence they had let lapse, but ended the exclamation with a monotonous “how wonderful” that left Brendon unsettled.

Brendon glanced back at Spencer again who he found to be staring at him, but before he could open his mouth, he turned quickly to follow Ryan who had wandered into the living area and was loudly proclaiming how dismal it was and that he required Spencer to back up the point. Standing in the doorway Brendon watched as Ryan pulled a chair from the table and sat primly on it, gesturing for Spencer and himself to sit down as well.

“I’ll just go and lock the door” Brendon danced about on his feet letting the key jingle in his fingertips but was stopped from leaving by Ryan.

“Don’t do such an absurd thing, I intend to leave the same way I entered, sit down Brendon” Ryan’s pointed look crumbled Brendon’s resolve and he found himself sitting across from both of his unwanted guests.  
Ryan seemed to talk and ask questions for over an hour before he paused and looked directly at Brendon.

“I do hope you don’t mind that we call you Brendon, Mr. Urie is so formal, and are we not all friends?” Brendon nodded cautiously in response, catching Spencer’s eye and smiling softly at what seemed to be the tenth mouthed apology of the night.

It took another two hours before Ryan declared his social call to be over.

“Well, I do believe I am required to be somewhere else other than you’re lovely home Brendon” He sighed melodramatically, before shushing Spencer who was sitting beside him with a confused expression.

In a matter of moments Ryan had himself and Spencer standing outside the shop, looking for all intent and purposes that they had always been outside, with Brendon standing in the doorway once more.

The two of them were half way across the street before Ryan turned back to call something to Brendon.

“Brendon, my dear friend, I do hope you’re aware that you seem to have broken your glasses in the hours between my visits, you should be more careful”.

Brendon closed the door with an annoyed snap, ignoring the distressed noises Spencer seemed to be making and the soft laughter of Ryan, and walked back into the warm light of his kitchen, running his hand over his eyes in unusual tiredness. In fact Brendon found himself falling into bed not long after he was relinquished from his hosting duties, far earlier than normal, and it was barely a handful of minutes before he fell asleep.

*

It was the first night he dreamt of the flower meadow.


End file.
